


Red

by AeeDee



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt from the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/yj_anon_meme/">YJ anon meme</a>, for a story that basically goes like this: After a fight with Artemis, Wally is at Roy's apartment, spending the night when he hears Roy moan his name.</p><p>JSYK, Wally/Artemis is mentioned, but it's not endgame. (Hey, I don't want to mislead anybody.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

Roy adores the freckles beneath Wally’s eyes. They nearly vanish in a dark room, and darken in the sun. It’s a small detail, that he’s sure most don’t notice. He only does because he looks too often. He has to be cautious not to get caught, but he is _always_ looking at that face.

He likes the outline and shape of Wally’s body, underneath his uniform. The outfit itself is too superhero cliché for his tastes, but he understands that the kid wanted to pay an homage to his hero. It’s no different from the tacky Speedy garment Roy himself wore; a tribute to a mentor, and a kind-hearted one at that.

Besides, that outfit was special. He liked Wally’s outfit more than anybody else’s, because when they stood next to each other, they wore the same colors. For those brief instances in time, Roy could pretend they _went_ together, that the similarity was intentional. But when he became Red Arrow, he had to sacrifice the yellow, because maintaining the same color scheme would go against his message of independence. He couldn’t bear to lose the red. Even if the red was just an accent on Wally, it was something that connected them. When they were young, when him and Wally ran around raising Hell alongside Robin, besides the yellow, that red was the color all of them had in common.

And red is the color of Wally’s hair, just like his. Except that Roy’s turns more of an orange under sunlight, and Wally’s never loses its saturation. It never loses its luminance.

Roy is probably the only person that knows that specific difference in their hair color. He knows Wally has freckles, and he does not. He knows how dark Wally’s skin can get during the summer, and that his own will never do anything except burn. Wally’s eyes are green, and Roy’s are blue, despite most people assuming otherwise.

He adores Wally’s eyes. He adores his face. He adores his tacky outfit, and his fit body. He even adores his quirky humor, and his bizarre antics. He doesn’t get all of his jokes, but he doesn’t care. His bromance with Robin gets irritating at times, but he doesn’t mind. Roy firmly trusts that Wally is also his friend, and that’s what’s important. He was allowed to befriend whoever else he likes, as long as he continued to make time for him. For the longest time, arguably months now, that has been all Roy wanted. That has been all he could reasonably request.

But then _it_ happened.

Wally came over one day, those eyes glowing and his entire face beaming. He couldn’t sit still, and he kept talking a mile a minute about anything and everything. He was giddy without being aware of it, he kept collapsing into fits of giggles and laughter at his own jokes and he even hugged Roy when he saw him, outright _jumped_ at him and threw his arms around his chest like there was a special occasion for it.

And when he spoke to him he’d sigh, with a smile that’d linger for several minutes after he finished speaking. When they enjoyed their usual dinner of pizza and soda, Wally didn’t eat as much as usual, because he was too distracted by his own happiness. He’d stare into space, gaze unfocused, before Roy would snap his fingers or say something to startle him out of it.

Before he left for the night, Wally finally admitted it.

“I… I like someone,” with a blush creeping onto his face.

And Roy, who loves the freckles on Wally’s face, who loves the soft green of his eyes, the subtle muscle of his fit body, the honesty in his humor and the _exact_ way he was smiling just then- It was enough that he could manage a, “Who,” because that was probably the only damn word he’d be able to say.

Wally paused, nervously looking away.

_Please._

“Well…” Wally’s blush was adorable. His inability to speak was adorable. The way his arms were shaking, his body trembling, like there was too much energy to contain-

_Please, God._

Roy, who loves the red in Wally’s hair and his outfit, and how dark Wally’s skin turns during the summer. Roy, who loves-

“Artemis.”

It takes surprisingly little to kill a dream. Even one that takes months to develop, to grow inside your mind from an idea that seemed impossible and ridiculous; even one that took all that effort, and that precise moment of chance to spontaneously appear at all.

For a moment in time, Roy thought that finally, _finally_ , Wally could fall for him.

But the cruel Fate is that Wally _does_ like archers. He likes bold, aggressive personalities. He likes intelligent minds, strength of will, and impulsive, brash confidence. He just doesn’t like those qualities in Roy.

He doesn’t care about the red in their uniforms, the difference in their hair color or the fact that Roy’s skin only burns in the sun. He doesn’t care about the difference in their eyes, or the fact that, for all of their years knowing each other, Roy hasn’t been able to date anyone, hasn’t been able to sleep with anyone for more than a one night stand. Wally probably didn’t even notice, and if he did, he wouldn’t view it as his problem.

Rightfully so. It wasn’t.

It took more self-control than Roy believed he had, to force a smile at his friend. It took more willpower than he wished he had, to lie to his face.

“That’s cool.”

He couldn’t say what he wanted. He couldn’t say what he meant. So instead he left it at that, and tried to hide the pain threatening to appear on his face as he listened to Wally ramble about how _amazing_ she was, how _special_ and how _interesting_.

“When we talk, it’s like… We’re meant to be,” he swooned.

Roy just nodded.

“She really _gets_ me.”

He stared at the face he adored-no, the face he _loved_ , those eyes glittering with joy, the smile that refused to go away, those freckles turning bright as his entire face was flushed, the slight frowning of his eyebrows, and the way he anxiously blinked back at him, as if he’s waiting for either a high five, or a congratulatory remark.

But all Roy could say is, “That’s cool.”

Wally paused for a moment, with a sudden look of shock. “Oh wait… Shit, man,” he looked away. “I forgot…”

Roy calmly tilted his head in question. Because whatever Wally was realizing, he was certain it was nothing relevant to the truth. Nothing relevant to the truth screaming inside his head.

He was right.

“You and Artemis… Aren’t you still mad at her?”

“I got over it.”

His blinding, devastating, crippling love for Wally made him get over it. He’d learn to tolerate any of Wally’s friendships, so when Wally warmed up to her, Roy did what he could to drop his grudge. Because he knew she was becoming important to Wally. He saw it from a mile away. He’d only had one request; one desperate wish that he couldn’t voice.

_Please don’t take him from me._

“Oh, that’s cool,” Wally’s beaming, as he leans forward slightly, raising his hand to initiate a high-five.

_You can take anything else. Oliver, the team, the League if you see fit…_

Roy returns the gesture, trying to ignore the precise torture of his fingers brushing against Wally’s, of his hand being right there and his own inability to hold onto it.

“You had me worried for a second there,” Wally shakes his head with a grin.

_But please don’t take him._

“Sorry.”

Roy had never said those words; he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d cringe whenever he saw Wally accidentally flirting with her, and he felt ill when he noticed her returning his clumsy advances. He wasn’t surprised by the news. He was devastated, but not surprised at all. He wasn’t dumb. And he wasn’t blind or deaf. He knew it was there. He knew there was something between them.

He’d just hoped, hope against hope, hoped to God that his love for him would be enough.

When Wally left, after a warm farewell of, “Let’s do this again soon,” Roy locked the door behind him. He locked the door, and fell still. He stayed there for a long time, pressing his hands against the door, feeling the grain of the wood against his open palms. He frowned to himself, pulled an arm back, and hit the door; hit the door so hard the wall shook.

The more he tried to calm himself down, the more he couldn’t. There’s no outlet for his violence, and he was too tired to exercise it out. So he did the only thing he could.

He cried.

He sat down on the floor, in front of the closed door, his face in his hands; and cried.

In his empty apartment, all he could hear was the sound of his muffled, broken voice. The pained, faint sobs he’s trying to stifle. He’s humiliating himself; he’s embarrassed. The silence was taunting him. All this empty space.

Wally would hate to see him like this. This would only hurt him, because he wouldn’t know why he was sad. He would give a reassuring hug, but he wouldn’t have the right words. He just wouldn’t understand.

Because he doesn’t care about Roy’s tolerance of his friends, or the reason why he wears the color red.

Roy cried until his eyes burned. He sobbed until his throat was sore, and he couldn’t speak the next day. But none of that dulled the pain, it only reminded him that crying was useless, and equally as pitiful as it ever was.

Because when you’re alone, no one’s there to see you cry.

And no one cares why.

-

Roy hasn’t seen Wally in several days; likely a few weeks. Wally had promised, as always, to make time. He’d send text messages, asking when Roy was free, saying that he could probably drop by. Only for that message to later be followed by a response of, _Sorry, something came up,_ or _Sorry, got a date tonight._

Somehow, Roy’s value to Wally has fallen dangerously low. He’s below Artemis, _the girlfriend_ , and he’s below Robin, _the best friend_ , and he’s below _the team_. Roy understands each of those. He knows Wally had obligations. He knows he has a busy life. Unlike him, Wally is not a social failure; not when it counts, with his friends. He gets that.

But he always thought he belonged in that list somewhere.

TV’s on. The volume’s low, because he doesn’t care about the show. He’s running the microwave, reheating a sandwich he probably should just throw away. When his phone rings, he initially doesn’t respond. It’s never important.

He receives a text, immediately after. He checks that.

_Dude are you home? Can I come over?_

Roy sighs. Not this again.

_Sure, if you can make it this time._

But he’s not getting his hopes up. His phone buzzes with a new message, as the microwave comes to a stop with a loud beep. He pushes a button to stop its noise. He checks the message.

_Yeah sorry about that. You know how it is. Ill be there._

But Roy won’t believe that until he actually appears on his doorstep.

-

Speak of the Devil.

Wally did come over this time.

…To talk about Artemis.

“I don’t get it,” he whines, throwing his arms up in the air, as he reclines back into the couch. “I didn’t even _do_ anything to her.”

“What exactly did you do,” Roy asks, as he waltzes back into the room, two sodas in hand.

He’s handing one of them to Wally as the boy explains, “I said she was _cute_. Cute. Is that so bad?”

“When it’s not your girlfriend, it is.”

Wally’s face takes on an exasperated expression. “ _Why_? Artey would’ve said she did, too!”

Roy shakes his head, “That’s not how women work.”

“Well how _do_ they work then,” Wally groans, as he pops open the can. A small sizzling, foaming noise, as he frowns at it, “Why can they give each other compliments and I can’t?”

“I don’t know,” Roy’s growing irritated with the subject, but he does what he can to downplay it as he takes a seat on the couch, a few feet away. He has to be careful to keep his distance. He doesn’t want to chance any accidental contact between them. He’s not in the mood to handle it well.

“I mean, what is she jealous of _Megan_ for, anyway?” Wally frowns, staring at Roy like it’s his fault.

Roy knows not to take it personally. “You did crush on her for a while.”

“Yeah but I’ve crushed on a _lot_ of people,” Wally whines. “I got over that one.”

“That one?” Roy questions, pausing in motion, just before he was about to open the can, fingers hovering above it unsteadily.

Wally frowns at him, “Yeah.” He gives a sly grin, “There are a few girls I’d still… you know,” with a smirk. He says whimsically, his eyes glazing over, “If ever given the chance…”

_Girls._

“Yeah,” Roy hides his disappointment—but why the hell is he feeling let down anyway; he knows he never had a chance—and gets back to work on his soda.

They sit in silence, before Wally interrupts the moment and asks, “Hey, Roy.”

“What,” as he leans back a little, sliding back to make himself more comfortable.

“I bet you know a _lot_ about relationships, huh?”

…So much for that.

“Not really,” he shrugs. He accidentally lets it slip, “I’m a failure at them.”

“Really?” Wally’s voice is neutral, but when Roy glances at him, the boy looks like he wants to laugh.

“Yeah, really. I’ve had two dates in five years.” He can remember them both pretty well, but they don’t carry any sentimental value. One of them ended in sex; that was the only highlight of that night.

“Damn,” Wally’s eyes grew wide. “That’s weird.”

“Not really. I like someone that doesn’t want me, so...”

But he stops, with a sudden intake of breath. His entire body stiffens up, and he hopes Wally doesn’t notice.

“Dude,” Wally says in awe. But his voice dissolves into a small laugh, “How could she not want _you?_ ”

_Wally._

“You’re awesome,” he grins good-naturedly.

_Wally, don’t._

“She’s either dumb, or…” he thinks out loud, and then asks, his eyes roaming around, “Have you…” as they land on Roy, “even _told_ her?”

“No point in it.”

“ _Oh_ , so that’s that why,” he laughs, reaching out to hit him on the shoulder. “Moron! You’ve gotta _tell_ a girl you want her.”

Wally’s touch lingers for a matter of a few extra seconds; seconds longer than it normally does. But Roy knows it doesn’t mean anything.

_Don’t be nice to me, Wally._

Roy stands up, as he thinks quickly, to escape the situation. “I’ll be back.”

“Hey-” Wally’s saying, almost annoyed as he stares up at him. But he shrugs as Roy’s walking away, assuming it’s no big deal. “Okay.”

Roy retreats into the bathroom, because it’s the only other enclosed space in his small apartment. He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t have an agenda. He doesn’t have a way out.

He just needs a few minutes to himself. A few minutes to desperately try to clear his head. Because right now, his chest is throbbing, his head is hurting, and his entire body feels weak, like somewhere between Wally arriving and them sitting there and _talking_ , he’s exhausted himself.

He closes the door behind him, and puts his hands over his face. He needs to hide his tears, just in case someone walks in. Just in case Wally gets curious.

Except that he knows he won’t. Not that much.

Because Wally doesn’t care. Not the way he wants.

There’s no room left in his heart.

-

When Roy comes back, he’s… okay.

Wally’s gives him an annoyed look, glancing over his shoulder as he pauses the game he’s been busying himself with. “Where’d you go? That took forever.”

 _That’s right._ Wally has a low tolerance for time. It’d only been roughly ten minutes, but to a speedster that felt more like an hour. Roy reasoned that must be why he had to occupy himself…

He picks up a controller, hastily saying, “Nowhere,” in a deep tone that’s almost like a growl, a tone that automatically implies he does _not_ want to talk about it.

Wally gets nervous around Roy when he’s angry; so he knows better than to push his buttons.

So when Roy says, “I’m joining in,” Wally lets himself relax.

He smiles at his friend, “Awesome,” and downplays his concern.

Besides, Roy knows how to take care of himself. If it was something serious, Wally knows that Roy would tell him.

When Wally glances at him for reassurance, he notices that Roy’s face is slightly more swollen and flushed than it was before he left.

_He would, right?_

Wally bites his lip and turns his attention to the game, as the tv fires up with a loud voice, “FIGHT.”

-

At this point it’s just ridiculous, but Roy _can’t_ fall out of love with Wally. He doesn’t know how. He believes in the strength of his own mind. He believes in his own ability to set himself onto a course and stick to it.

But it turns out that, when he falls in love, he’s as stubborn as always. It makes him into one hell of a masochist. Regarding Wally and everything else he wants and fails to have, he’s destined to endure a lifetime of loss and unfulfilled need.

But right now, he’s not feeling too bad. He’s feeling… better.

Because that feeling, that joy trapped inside his chest; it makes him dizzy. It makes him feel weightless. Wally’s smile, Wally’s laugh, Wally’s _happiness_ ; these are the drugs that ease the pain.

It’s impossible to win a game against a speedster; not if he were playing honestly. So Roy knows that Wally’s slowing himself down, to give him a fair chance. In a way, it’s endearing. But Roy has to be careful not to dwell on that.

Wally even _acts_ like he’s being defeated. “Aw, come on,” he feigns like he’s facing genuine difficulty. When he starts to win every round, he slows down even more, allowing Roy to claim a few victories. Roy smiles at him as thanks, but he doesn’t tell him that he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

He doesn’t want Wally to ever realize how perceptive he is of him. He doesn’t want Wally to ever know how _much_ he knows. He doesn’t want Wally to know that he’s aware of his usual speed, when he plays through a game alone. He doesn’t want Wally to know that, when they’re in the same room together, he’s always watching his face, his hands, his body, _everything_.

Few others understand just how _fast_ Wally is. The kid himself doesn’t completely believe in his own worth, so why would anyone else. No one finds Wally as amazing, as stunning, as incredible as Roy does. And that’s okay. He doesn’t mind that.

Because for a while, that was just his secret. His, and maybe Wally’s immediate family. Maybe Dick had noticed him doing something incredible every once in a while. Otherwise, Wally was surrounded by people that treated him like less than what he was; well-intentioned peers and fellow mentors that just couldn’t understand.

Because to everyone else, Wally was just some kid.

To Roy, Wally was his entire world.

Almost.

At the very least, he was right there at the center of it.

They take a break; Wally complains that his hands hurt, but Roy knows that’s a lie. He just gets impatient when he has to move so slowly for such an extended amount of time. It exhausts him. Something else most do not know.

Wally’s stretching, his arms above his head as he gives a small yawn, and murmurs something about “calling it a night.”

Roy agrees, “Yeah,” as he sets down the controller. He sits up, and moves towards the tv screen, as he starts to shut the system down.

He feels Wally’s eyes on him, but he’s not sure why.

“So,” Wally’s voice is a tired murmur, “You gonna tell her?”

The question startles Roy so badly that he almost drops the game’s disc; he frowns to himself and inwardly curses as he recollects his composure. And when he snaps its case shut and glances back at Wally, he keeps his face calm, “What.”

“The girl you like,” Wally gives a tired grin, as his eyes are falling heavy. “You should tell her.”

“Maybe,” he tries to dismiss him quickly, as he shuts the tv off. The screen goes dark. He crawls back to where Wally is, but he’s wise enough to not sit too close to him.

Because with the look on Wally’s face, and how _beautiful_ he looks right now, his expression tired and completely calm, Roy knows it would not end well to make any contact. He may not be able to pull himself away.

“I’m serious,” Wally’s voice is a murmured drawl, as he lays down on the floor with a worn-out sigh. “I mean, how else are you gonna know if she…” He’s trailing off, “you know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

But he won’t say a word.

Roy watches him idly, as Wally closes his eyes, his breathing slowing down. This is ordinarily around when he’ll nag at Wally to relocate himself to the couch or something, but…

He doesn’t have the willpower to do that.

Instead, he lays down onto the floor some feet away, and allows himself to take in the view, just for a few minutes. A few minutes that become several, as he watches Wally’s closed eyes flutter slightly, the way his hand is gradually sliding off his chest, and he listens to the sound of his breathing, slow and silent in the room, which always feels so much less empty when he’s here.

It feels _right_ , when he’s here. Like this room should always feel this way.

He moves a tad closer; he can’t help it. He won’t do anything too stupid, he just wants to… he just wants to see him better. That’s all.

He sits up, giving a small sigh as he looks down at him, as he watches him descending further into being asleep. When Wally’s face is at rest, his eyelashes are actually quite prominent. His lips, when completely still, have a natural upturn at the edges, like he’s smiling in his sleep. There are no freckles on his nose, not even the bridge. His eyebrows are almost completely straight, which makes them more expressive when he frowns. His jaw has a sharp edge, and there’s almost no roundness in his chin, except when he laughs. His neck is broad and his shoulders are narrow.

All these, details no one else knows.

Or cares about. Not like he does.

Roy sighs to himself. He decides to let Wally sleep there, as he stands up to go wash his face and get dressed down for bed. Well, _bed_ as a technicality, since in this small place, his only bed was his couch. He’d normally seize the floor—actually, precisely where Wally was, not too far from the television—when he crashed here, but that now seemed unnecessary.

He washes his face, but it doesn’t really help. He doesn’t feel any better than he did before. He doesn’t feel refreshed, or lighter in any sense. He feels heavy. Heavy. So heavy. And…

Hard.

_Fuck._

-

Roy lays down on the couch, a blanket spread over himself as he tries to consider the ramifications of what he’s doing. But his mind is lost in that blank space, an empty and dark void there’s no coming back from.

He firmly holds a pillow over his face, to suppress his own heavy breathing.

He tried to sleep this off. He really did. But _dammit_ it began to _hurt_. Every time he moved, it hurt. Every time he tried to focus on anything else, his mind wandered back to Wally, and _goddammit_ it hurt _again_.

Besides.

No harm done.

Wally would never know.

No harm done.

-

Wally hears a voice; a quiet voice he doesn’t understand. Speaking words... Words he can’t piece together. Incomprehensible murmuring.

He opens his eyes slowly, as he regains consciousness.

Incomprehensible sounds. Deep breaths, almost like gasps.

Roy.

Is he in pain-

But it doesn’t take Wally, even in his half-awake state, long to realize that’s not the case. Because somewhere in between those breaths, is a moan.

Does he have someone over-

But there’s no other voice. No other sounds, just those. Just those, and the sound of movement, of a rustling on the couch.

Deep breaths. Almost like gasps.

Wally does what he can to ignore it. He closes his eyes. Re-attempts sleep.

But there it is.

“Wal...”

He forces his eyes to remain shut.

“Ha.” Deep breaths. “Wally.” Deep breaths. “Wal…”

Wally starts to shiver.

“ _Wally_.”

-

Roy had finally passed out.

Wally had waited. He’d waited until he’d fallen still. When he stopped making those sounds. When he’d heard the faint rustling of fabric, a quiet, “Shit,” and the sound of his footsteps traveling across the room. And his eventual return.

Wally had waited until Roy had come back, reclined back onto the couch, and passed out.

He’d sat up impatiently, flinching and gasping in silence as he felt a rush of pain. _God_ , he’d been hard for so long. Too long. Too _damn_ long.

His original plan was simple. Wait until Roy fell asleep. Retreat to the bathroom. Work it out.

But when he sat up, and happened to see Roy on the couch, sprawled out and dead to the world, his mind wandered. He was watching him in silence, in awe of what just happened; still stunned and not nearly as disgusted as he should have been.

A hand wandered to his groin. The advantage to being a speedster. He could do this _right here_ , just to get it done. Quickly.

He slides a hand inside his pants; pauses, to make sure Roy’s not hearing any of it. No response. No movement.

He shivers as his hand caresses his cock, and he has to suppress another gasp when he realizes just how sensitive and sore it is. He feels like he’s been hard for _days_. Days with no release-

He’s almost crying while he jacks himself off, partly from his shame but otherwise from his confusion.

_What is wrong with me,_

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He can’t stop, as he keeps thinking of that voice, of that voice calling his name, thinking, thinking-

_Wally._

Another look at Roy’s face, of his restful and firm body, of his arm that’s hanging off the couch, fingers suspended in mid-air. The same fingers that were arguably touching his- No wait, but if Roy’s right-handed, then-

Oh _dear God_ he doesn’t care, it’s Roy’s hand, and-

He lets a small whine escape, as he comes. He rides out his orgasm in silence, biting his lip, shivering, shaking, trembling before he relaxes, feeling his own cum spilling over his fingers, soaking his briefs, dripping down his legs-

_Oh God._

-

The television is already on when he wakes up. There’s something cooking on the stove. He stirs, and sits up in a slow stretch. His back hurts, but apart from that, he feels rested. Surprising, considering what just-

He pauses; freezes, as that moment of horror comes over him. Because while he was asleep, he’d been able to not think about it. But now…

_Wally._

He has a sharp intake of breath, as he hears someone’s footsteps, not too far away. He clears his throat and looks over his shoulder, to see Roy standing there, with a plate in his hand.

_His hand-_

Wally draws a blank. “Yeah?”

“What,” Roy stares down at him.

“Huh?” Wally’s too disoriented to act like he understands what’s going on right now.

“I didn’t say anything,” Roy frowns at him.

“Oh, s-” he hits his forehead with his hand, “Sorry, I’m tired.”

Roy responds flatly, “Come eat.”

_Come._

Wally tries to fight the blush threatening to appear on his face. “Okay.”

This was going to be a long, long morning.

-

Silence. It’s oppressive, the silence between them. So Wally does what he can to break it; to lighten it a little. “So, did you sl-”

But Roy cuts him off. Unexpectedly.

“You gonna call Artemis,” his voice is unusually somber. He’s not even looking at him. He’s looking at his slice of toast.

“Uh yeah,” Wally shrugs, “Sure. I will in a sec.”

“Okay,” before he takes a bite from it.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Wally forces a small smile. But the truth is that he’s scared. He doesn’t know of what. Just.. scared.

“No,” Roy glances at him, before his eyes fall down to the table somewhere. “Just figured you should.”

“I… Yeah, I guess.”

Roy just nods at him.

Wally stares at him, as passively as he can manage; he’s quick to avert his eyes when Roy looks up.

There’s something wrong with him.

Roy always likes to pretend that nobody can see it. He likes to act like nobody knows when he’s actually upset. He likes to believe he’s in this world all by himself, and that he’s an island drifting by others, unconnected, unattached. That everything he goes through is something no one will ever know or understand.

Wally understands. He’s just never had the courage to say it.

Because Roy looks a certain way, when he’s angry. When Wally hits a sensitive spot, and makes him mad. Roy gets a look on his face, like he’ll either kill himself or someone else. He looks threatened and hurt, and even if it’s just for a brief second in time before he catches himself, a brief fraction of time is enough for him to notice.

Roy always thinks he regains his composure quickly enough. But Wally sees it.

He just knows better than to say anything.

He knows better than to do a lot of things.

He sits back, sliding his plate away, and stands up. “I should go.”

Roy gives him a hesitant look, but Wally doesn’t stop to question it.

-

It’s some days before he sees Wally again.

Roy knows something happened. He knows. He just doesn’t know what.

Well, he has a pretty damn good idea.

_Goddammit._

But Wally came back. He’s _here_ , and that’s what matters now.

Wally, with his friendly smile. Wally, with his patient nature and his eagerness to look on the upside of a situation, even one as awkward as this one.

They can’t talk about it. They won’t, probably.

But Wally’s here. He’s here.

He’s pressing his body against his, not even seeming to care how close this is, how flirtatious this is, how inappropriate it is, all things considered; he’s pressing his body against his, pressing his chest against his back as he peers over his shoulder, trying to get a better view.

“Do I need to pick you up,” Roy jokes, using a calm smile to disguise how fucking _giddy_ he feels right now.

“No way,” Wally responds promptly, placing a hand on Roy’s shoulder to steady himself. He whines, “Why are there so many people?”

“You can move closer, if you want,” a murmur.

“Nah, I’m okay,” he says with a small flash of a smile, “Cause I’d leave you way behind.”

“It’s okay,” he turns to look at him more directly, “If you want.”

“Nah.”

Wally.

Kind, considerate Wally.

Wally, always slowing himself down, always holding himself back, always denying himself privileges for the sake of others.

Wally, who he loves so much-

The hand on his shoulder is clenching tighter; just a little.

All around them, the crowd is roaring into a cheer. The athletes take the field down below. But Roy’s too distracted to care; because Wally’s hand is on his shoulder, and _why hasn’t he gotten down yet_.

Roy happens to be looking at Wally, when Wally turns to face him directly, as if he’s about to say something. But the moment he starts that lazy smile, and as soon as his jaw starts to move, and his lips to curve; he stops. He pauses, and stares back at Roy, with a kind of bewildered look that’s more disoriented than anything, like he’s battling a thought inside his head that he can’t voice.

Wally climbs off him; he lands back onto the ground with both feet, but they don’t stop staring at each other. They can’t. The reasons may be different but the intent is the same.

When Roy hesitantly leans in towards him, Wally doesn’t pull back.

The roar of a crowd around them, loud voices in frantic conversation, as action erupts on the field.

Roy’s locking lips with Wally.

-

_Roy’s tongue is inside my mouth._

Wally’s eyes are closing.

_Roy’s tongue is inside my mouth._

He can’t contain himself as he gasps into the kiss, his body shaking, shaking, as Roy places a firm hand on his back to stabilize him. To soothe him somehow.

_It’s okay. I’m just gonna end this here._

He sinking deeper into it, he’s parting his lips even more, he’s panting in pleasure as he finds himself savoring the taste of his mouth, the heat, the texture of his tongue, the rushed pace of his breathing-

_I’m just gonna end this. It’s gonna be okay._

But his mind wanders, as starts to return the gesture, as he’s pushing back against Roy, taking on the role of the aggressor, the boy who’s suddenly too desperate to do anything but kiss back, but lick and taste him and-

He can still hear that voice inside his head.

_Wally._

He suppresses another gasp, as he feels Roy’s strong arms winding themselves around his shoulders.

_Wally._

-

“No. We’re…” he looks away uncomfortably, as he keeps his eyes to the floor. He keeps his voice in a quiet hush, “We’re not like that.”

Behind them, now seemingly miles away, down this lonely hallway, in the distant world outside the stadium is cheering again.

“We’re not like that, okay?”

Roy gives a single nod. “I know.”

“We’re just friends,” his voice an almost delicate whisper. “I mean, I’m seeing someone, and-”

“I know.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna mess that up, it’s going _well_ for me-”

“I know.”

“And she might be _the one_ , you know?”

Roy gives a single nod, “Okay.”

Wally’s voice is small and fragile. “Okay?”

Roy nods. “Okay.”

Wally looks at him with some exasperation. “I..” his eyes fall to the ground, as he shakes his head, “I can’t do this.”

Silence.

“I can’t... Just… leave me alone for a while, okay?”

Silence.

Roy turns, and starts to walk in the opposite direction.

“Hey wait,” Wally calls after him, as he looks up again. “Hold on,” he dashes forward, walking alongside Roy as he continues to walk down the hallway. Wally’s voice is hasty and rushed, “You know I didn’t mean that.”

But Roy’s not listening. He keeps moving, cold eyes staring ahead.

“You know I didn’t-”

He stops suddenly, as Roy’s pressing a firm hand against his chest. It’s almost a threat, but Wally can’t fully comprehend what it means.

“Look,” Roy’s voice is deep and solemn, as he gradually starts to frown, his expression turning more distressed with every word, “If you want to do the right thing,” he pulls his hand back, “Let me leave.”

Wally stares after him, as he stays there in place, watching Roy make his way down the hallway. When he nears the noisy stadium, he turns the corner.

And he’s gone, just like that.

Wally doesn’t know how-

He doesn’t know why, but-

He just-

He feels so-

_Wally._

God, what has he done.

-

Artemis is on the other end of the phone. Wally can hear her voice, but… he doesn’t. He’s not really listening. He lost track of the subject a few minutes ago.

Because right now, he’s preoccupied.

He holds a photograph in his hands; a photograph he stole from Roy’s apartment, several months ago. He hadn’t thought much of it. He just took it because he liked it. He had intended to give it back later.

He hadn’t thought about why it had its own frame. He hadn’t thought about why it was singled out, among the many others they had all taken together. Whenever they went out with Dick, there were always plenty of photos like this; some silly, some funny, some pleasant. But this one…

This one was simple. Nothing special. Wally had just liked the way he looked in it, so he kept it.

But now, as he stared at it again, after a long while…

Roy’s staring at the camera, with a slight grin on his face, but his eyes have that same irritated, borderline confused frown as always. Wally’s leaning into the frame with a smile that’s almost ridiculous, eyes wide and hyper, with an arm around Roy’s shoulders.

An arm around Roy’s shoulders.

He doesn’t remember that moment. He wishes he did. Because he’s never noticed that detail before.

And he remembers where he found this picture, in a single frame, turned to face the wall when he first noticed it.

Roy.

_Do you…_

Artemis prompts Wally for a response.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks.

He tunes out the annoyed response he gets.

_Do you love me?_

The instant he asks that question, even to himself, he feels his entire body start to collapse, like he doesn’t have the strength to stand anymore. He lays back onto the bed. He feels his heart rate spiking up. He feels his blood rush.

Because-

_Do you love me, Roy…_

A hand rushing to his groin, as he quickly closes the phone. He’d deal with her later. Because for now, there was just…

Burning need, and sudden lust. That voice inside his head, and the kiss they shared, the feel of Roy’s tongue inside his mouth, and the way he tasted, and-

_Roy._

He’s jerking off furiously, panting and moaning out loud as he works in a frenzy to get the energy out. Gotta release it, gotta release it somehow. Gotta calm down, gotta calm down-

He’s writhing against the bed, gasping in silence as he pants deep and heavy, deep and heavy, as the bed shakes, the bed shakes -

_Do you love me-_

The taste of Roy’s mouth and the feel of his tongue and the warmth of his body and-

Wally almost cries out when he comes, a cry that becomes a slow whine. He’s trembling long after he’s done, frowning in disgust at his soiled pants, sighing in exasperation, in desperation, and-

_“Let me leave.”_

_I can’t._

-

Wally didn’t know what love was. Not entirely.

He’d always known what love was, under certain definitions. He loved his friends. His loved his mentors at the League. He loved Dick. He loved Artemis. But Roy…

He didn’t know how he loved Roy.

But he knew that he did. On some level. Somewhere inside his heart, there was a place for him. Somewhere inside his soul, there always had been.

But now, he’s beginning to understand.

He enjoys their time together. He enjoys it whenever he can make him laugh, however rare it is. He enjoys leaning on his shoulder when he’s tired. He enjoys hugging him when he feels happy, and he likes the surprised looks he gets whenever he says something especially affectionate.

He knows Roy stares at him a lot. He just assumed it was out of curiosity, or general interest. He never thought it was…

The kind of feeling that makes you spontaneously kiss your friend. The kind of feeling that makes you call his name-

And the more Wally considered that, the more he realized that he wanted _more_.

He wanted more of everything. Another kiss. Another embrace. He wanted to hear his voice sound like that. He wanted to see him overwhelmed, desperate, moaning beneath him. He wanted to ride him, he wanted to be pounded and fucked and-

Sometimes, he’d think of the way Roy looked, in the hours before that night. How swollen his face was, how disoriented, how flushed. He remembered their conversation, of Roy saying he’d never been able to tell his _girl_ that he loved her.

There never was a girl at all. Wally was the reason Roy left for those several minutes. Wally was the reason he'd cried, when he was alone in the bathroom that night. Wally was the reason why he never had a girl over, hadn’t been on any real dates, hadn’t been able to commit himself to anyone-

Selfishly, Wally had stayed in his life. He’d always forced Roy to keep that door open. He’d send him texts about coming over, even when he knew he probably couldn’t. He wanted to believe he could, so he’d try. He wanted to believe he had time for Roy, but he just didn’t. He hadn’t found it.

He felt horrible about that. He felt so awful. For every single time he’d responded back and said he couldn’t make it. For every time he ditched him for Artemis.

But Wally had been right about one thing.

He’d known he was in love, the moment it happened. He’d fallen in deep, so deep he couldn’t find his way out. He was a blushing, giddy, excited mess with bright eyes and a tendency to give lots of hugs and to wear a smile that never faded. He felt ill in his stomach and tense in his chest. He was in love. Wally was so in love he couldn’t adequately explain it, couldn’t completely understand it. He was giddy and excited and thrilled at the world.

But he made a mistake.

When he told Roy, he gave the wrong answer.

Because it wasn’t her. It was never about her.

When Roy asked, “Who,” the answer was really simple. Very simple. Painfully simple now, in retrospect.

“You.”

-

Wally adores the sound of Roy’s laugh. It has the power to either fill a room, or to escape with barely any sound. It all depends on his mood, which seems to change by the minute; but Roy is predictable. Roy responds to triggers, from within himself and from others. He’s surprisingly easy to hurt; his pride is fragile. But he’s able to endure any wound.

Wally likes the feel of Roy’s arms around him, but even more, he enjoys the feel of his arms around Roy. He likes how warm he is; how he relaxes in his embrace and lets his guard down. He likes the feel of the stress leaving his shoulders, and the gentle way that he nuzzles against him, and the feel of his slow breathing against his neck.

Wally likes the texture of Roy’s hair. He appreciates how soft it is between his fingers. He likes the smoothness of his shoulders, and he likes to trace the small scars scattered across his back. He doesn’t appreciate them being there—he would have never willed them into existence—but he enjoys the stories Roy tells, the fact that Roy remembers where every single one came from.

Some of the stories make him laugh. Some of them make him unbearably sad. Some of them make him wish he could erase that moment from Roy’s history.

He’s often startled by his newfound protectiveness over Roy; that is, he’s startled because it’s always been there, in some shape or form. He didn’t know what it was called then, but there was never a time, there was never a year, there was never a day when he didn’t wonder how he was, how he felt, where he was. He wants to protect him from every danger and hazard in the world. He wants to kiss him until he can’t remember those scars anymore. He wants to hold him until he no longer feels alone. He wants to find him on that distant island deep inside his mind; he wants to rescue him and bring him back to civilization. He wants to bring him back to life.

Wally adores the feel of Roy’s kisses, as they trail across his chest. He enjoys the way he holds his hands, delicately and carefully like they’re something precious. He likes the way Roy looks at him, like he’s ready to cry at any second, even if he knows Roy would never allow himself to do that in front of him.

He doesn’t cry; he wouldn’t. But he does give a small smile, the _exact_ kind Wally loves the most, slight and genuine. A smile like the one in that photo, the kind of hidden, almost obscured smile that sneaks onto his face when he’s not self-conscious enough to hold it back.

Wally winds an arm around his shoulders. Roy pulls him closer.

Wally’s rocking gently in his lap, suppressing a moan when they kiss.

He likes the soft feel of his hair, between his fingers. He likes the warmth of his body, as it spreads through him. He likes the taste of Roy’s mouth, the feel of his hands as they firmly press against his hips. He likes the sounds Roy makes, those deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Wally’s rocking gently in his lap, as he winds his arms around his lover, with a small whine as he feels Roy pushing deeper inside him.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He feels Roy’s chest rise and fall with each one.

And when they kiss one more time, Wally’s shuddering, gasping into his mouth as Roy holds him tightly, so tight, so tight, with those deep breaths, deep breaths, as his eyes are closing-

Wally loves the look of his face, when he’s flushed with pleasure. He loves the way his lips part; and the way his eyes fall still. When Roy’s not frowning or seeming irritated or perplexed as usual, he’s so beautiful. So beautiful; with a masculine jawline and a slender and tall nose and perfectly spaced, deep-set eyes.

Roy doesn’t have any freckles on his face. His eyes are blue. His hair is almost a soft orange and his skin is more fair than his would ever be. His body is larger. His arms are stronger. His voice is lower and his laugh has the power to fill a room.

Roy should laugh more often, but Wally’s not going to complain about it. He can tolerate Roy’s seriousness. He can accept Roy’s stubbornness. And he’s come to understand that when Roy raises a wall to protect himself, the only logical course of action is to break it down.

Sometimes he protests. Sometimes he complains. Sometimes he disguises the problem. But if Wally can hold him enough, kiss him enough, _soothe_ him enough for the ache to be just a little more bearable, Roy is quiet, and vulnerable in his arms.

Wally hopes, hope against hope, that Roy knows he would never take advantage of his trust. Wally would never hurt him. The only thing that Wally has to give is love.

Love, love;

He’s sighing pleasantly, his hands pressing down into Roy’s shoulders to steady himself as he comes.

Love;

And some minutes later, after minutes of rocking, steady thrusting and those hands roaming across his body;

Roy’s kissing his face up until the moment he reaches his limit, and when he comes, he closes his eyes and holds, _holds_ onto Wally almost desperately, like he’s going to leave. But when he relaxes and lets go, Wally is still there. Wally is still there, returning a kiss to his face, a gentle kiss just beneath his eyes.

Roy didn’t know really what it felt like, to be loved before.

But now, he’s starting to understand.

It wasn’t just about his appreciation for the color red anymore. Or the fact that Wally almost cried, when Roy told him the story.

It was about so much more than that.

The smile on Wally’s face, as he closes his eyes and leans against his shoulder.

It’s about so much more.


End file.
